


After the fairytale ending

by TracingPatterns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Darkness, Drama, Family Drama, Gen, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Other, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracingPatterns/pseuds/TracingPatterns
Summary: Over the years he’d perfected the mask of a carefree wizard. He had grown from The Boy Who Lived into The Man Who Triumphed and he bore it well. But the darkness wasn’t gone.





	After the fairytale ending

**Author's Note:**

> I have always been fascinated with how Harry would cope with everything he went through leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts. The Cursed Child did nothing to help with that so I figured I might as well take matters into my own hands. I'm not sure what this is yet, if there will be more or not, but this is something. 
> 
> These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I will be forever grateful to her for sharing them with us.

He stood frozen to the spot, a few steps into the clearing. The flames from the fire danced, casting contorted shadows around, and the big snake was coiling and uncoiling in its glittering cage behind the dark shape who was the centre of everyone’s attention. Harry knew they weren’t alone, but to him only the red, snakelike eyes of Voldermort existed. 

The tall figure regarded him, his head slightly tilted and a mocking smirk curling his lips.

”Harry Potter,” he said, with a voice that Harry knew too well and which sent shivers up and down his spine. ”The boy who lived.”

Harry felt his wand against his chest, tucked away, but it didn’t even cross his mind that he would reach for it. Voldemort had though, he had raised his arm and had his wand pointed at Harry. His eyes didn’t leave Harry’s, and every second felt like hours. Harry could feel his heart pounding, hear the blood rushing in his ears and his entire world seemed to only exist of Voldemort’s red eyes and raised wand.

He had never felt as alone as he did in that moment. The fear making his insides twist and he struggled to draw breath. He wasn’t able to move, couldn’t even if he had wanted to, and he was only dimly aware of Hagrid’s cries before he was effectively silenced by someone Harry couldn’t make out. He felt sick to his stomach, convinced he would throw up as the bile rose in the back of his throat. He could feel tears pricking his eyes and even though he hated himself for it he could feel how they threatened to fall. 

He thought of Ron, of Hermione and of Ginny. But the thoughts didn’t seem to catch on anything in his mind. He felt as though he was reeling, and the only thought that stood out was that this was it. He had come to the end and it was nothing like he’d imagined it. He wouldn’t die fighting, it wouldn’t be a heroic death. There was nothing grand about the way he was trembling, and he almost had the plea on the tip of his tongue for Voldemort to get it over with.

He could see the smirk in the pale face, Voldemort’s eyes no more than two red slits as he threw his head back and let out a cold, mad cackle. Harry heard the words, saw the green flash and knew it was the end.

That was when he woke. 

He was breathing hard, his heart pounding and he felt clammy with cold sweat. He sat up, reaching blindly over to the bedside table, groping around for his glasses. It took him a moment before he found them, putting them on hurriedly as he blinked into the darkness. 

He ran a hand through his sweat-slick hair, and even though the logical part of him knew that it had only been a dream, he felt as if he had just faced the Dark Lord again mere minutes earlier.

He swung both legs over the edge of the bed, moving slowly as he left the bedroom behind. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept through the night. Thinking back, his whole life had been a long row of nightmares. The panic, the all-consuming and mind blowing fear that gripped him and reduced him to a quivering child again.

The moments before Voldemort killed him was the most frequent dream but sometimes it was the death of someone else. Of Lupin and Tonks. Of Fred. Of Cedric. Of Ron and Hermione. Ginny. Then later on the death of his children, even if they had never lived in a world where Voldemort existed. But the dreams didn’t care about that, and night after night he watched James, Albus and Lily die without being able to do anything about it. 

——

Harry sat at the kitchen table, a cold cup of tea in front of him as the greyish light started to creep through the window to light up the room. He had been awake for hours already, but he knew there was no point in trying to go back to bed. The light told him it was soon time to wake up anyway, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the children woke up. He stood with a sigh, picking up his cup of tea to empty and wash it in the sink. He knew he could do it in seconds with a flick of his wand, but sometimes the monotone motions of the muggles’ way were what he craved. 

This was a morning like that, and he looked absently out the window whilst he was washing up the dishes which had been left there from the night before. It wasn’t long before he could hear someone making their way down the stairs. He turned just in time to see Lily standing in the doorway, her flaming red hair enhanced by her pale skin and white nightgown. She looked at him quietly, a serious expression on her face which made him half-smile.

”Good morning,” he said with forced cheerfulness. ”Are you hungry?”

She nodded and pulled out a chair to sit down, absently adding sugar into the tea that Harry placed in front of her with a flick of his wand.

”Are you excited about going back to Hogwarts?” He asked, his back turned to her as he started preparing sandwiches.

”It’s not for another week, Dad,” she pointed out, stifling a yawn.

”I know,” Harry turned. ”But I won’t see you until then, will I?”

Lily shrugged, sipping her tea for a moment before she put the cup back down. 

”You’ll come and say goodbye though, won’t you?”

Harry nodded, putting down a plate of sandwiches on the table in front of her before stroking her head lightly.

”Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

He walked past her and through to the bottom of the stairs.

”Al! James! Time for breakfast!” He called out before returning to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair opposite to his daughter, reaching out to grab this cup of tea almost absently. He opened his mouth to say something when Albus appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep. He slumped down on a chair next to his sister, reaching across her without a word to grab a sandwich.

”Good morning,” Harry said, a little too brightly which earned him a glare from his son. ”Do you want some tea?”

Al quietly shook his head, chewing on his sandwich and staring into nothing ahead of him.

”Is James on his way?” Harry asked, trying to catch him son’s gaze without much luck. 

Al didn’t seem keen on answering either, instead he just made a non-committed shrug. Harry sighed and got up again to shout up the stairs.

”James? JAMES! I’m not kidding, it’s time to get up. Your mum will be here any minute!”

There was no reply from the top floor and Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He had thought that the kids were a handful when they were younger, but it hadn’t prepared him for life with teenagers. Although, Harry had to admit, he barely even saw James these days. Having recently turned sixteen he seemed to spend all days sleeping and all nights up doing god-knows-what in that bedroom of his. Getting him to leave the room was a constant struggle and whenever he did leave it he seemed to spend most of the time seeing how long it would take him to drive his siblings mad. When there was still no reply Harry took a deep breath.

”JAMES! Last chance!”

When there was still no reply he pulled his wand, making a quick motion with it before returning to the kitchen. He had barely sat down before there was a loud bang from upstairs, followed by all sorts of screeching, beeping and whizzing sounds.

Both Lily and Al jumped at the sudden noise, looking to their dad in alarm but Harry just winked at them with a smile. Lily giggled into her tea and even Al looked slightly more awake, and a little amused, even though he tried hard not to show it.

It didn’t take long before James appeared in the doorway, expression dark as he glared at his father.

”Sleep well?” Harry asked, innocently, earning him another dark glare as James slumped down on a chair with a grunt. 

Silence fell in the kitchen after that, just the quiet munching from the kids eating their breakfast was audible. Harry stood up, absently starting to clean up even though it was hardly necessary. He felt like he should say something, anything, but he couldn’t think of a single thing.

He was relieved when he heard a swooshing sound from the living room, a sign that Ginny had arrived, and sure enough, seconds later she was standing in the kitchen with them.

”Hello,” she said brightly, smiling as Lily got up to hug her and she ruffled Al’s hair affectionately. Even James looked a little happier at the sight of his mother. Harry breathed out.

”Hi,” he said with a nod, forcing himself to smile.

Ginny looked at him, her brown eyes piercing and searching and as always he looked away. He pretended to busy himself with the kids’ now empty dishes and Ginny didn’t call him on it even though he knew she could see straight through him.

He could hear the kids chatting away to her, even James voice was audible every now and then. He half-turned, watching them quietly and as usual he was amazed at how easy Ginny seemed to find this whole parenting thing. His gaze locked onto Ginny and Lily, laughing at something he hadn’t heard and once again it struck him how alike they were. He realised Lily had now reached the age Ginny had been when she had ended up in the Chamber of Secrets and he felt a stab of something in his heart. He shook it off though, clearing his throat.

”Okay, kids. Go get your trunks. I’m sure your mum’s in a hurry.”

Ginny shot him a look but she didn’t say anything, not until the kids had disappeared up the stairs, bickering.

”How are you?” She asked once the children were out of earshot.

Harry shrugged, avoiding her gaze again.

”I’m fine,” he said. ”Just fine.”

”Harry…” Ginny started softly but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

”Really,” he said, a little firmer. ”I’m fine.”

She sighed, shrugged as if she gave up altogether.

”You’ll come to Kings’ Cross?” She said, changing the topic.

He nodded, relieved and thankful both at once.

”Yeah, I’ll meet you there to see them off.”

”Good,” she said. He could see she wasn’t quite finished, taking a deep breath to say something else. ”Harry—”

She got cut off as the kids’ tumbled down the stairs along with their trunks, bags and assorted animals.

”All set, Mum,” James said brightly, barely even looking at his father as he dragged both his and Lily’s trunk into the living room.

Al followed close behind, still a sullen look on his face as he awkwardly pushed it in front of him.

”Need a hand there?” Harry asked, but he just got a shake of the head as a reply. 

He sighed to himself as he followed the rest of his family into the living room where James was already digging a hand into the bag of Floo powder. 

”Bye Dad,” he said, hurriedly, stepping into the fireplace and disappearing almost in seconds.

”Uh, yeah, sure, bye James,” Harry said, but it was already too late, and Al had already thrown his Floo powder by then. He didn’t bother to even reply to Harry’s goodbye, and Ginny gave him a sympathetic look.

”He’s just-”

But Harry cut her off, forced a smile.

”It’s okay, never mind. I’ll see them at Kings Cross.”

Ginny nodded, stepping close and pushing up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

”See you then.”

He nodded, about to reply but when Ginny stepped away he could feel Lily’s arms snake around his waist, her cheek pressed against his chest. He felt something warm spread through him as he kissed the top of her head, hugging her back.

”Bye, Lil.”

She squeezed a little tighter before pushing him back, looking up at him with big eyes.

”You promise you’ll come and see us off?”

He smiled, for real this time, kissing the top of her head again.

”I promise. See you in a week.”

She nodded, letting him go as she followed her mother over to the fireplace and taking her hand. Not even a minute later they were gone as well, and Harry was alone.

He heaved a deep breath, looking around the living room, the kids’ things scattered all over the house. He didn’t have the energy to do something about that now though, and instead he just slumped down in the nearest armchair.

He sat in silence for a while, just taking in the empty house. It was almost eerily quiet now that the kids were gone and even though he knew it would be it still surprised him. It was a special kind of quiet without the kids and even though he had times when he longed for it, there were other times when he hated it.

He exhaled into the silence. He was alone, and maybe that was for the best.

—

Harry had thought that the hunt for Horcruxes, the final battle at Hogwarts and his now famous clash with Voldemort would be the most difficult thing he would ever have to endure. That once the Dark Lord had been defeated, when the heartbreak and despair which consumed them after their losses had slowly made way for a dull ache of mourning, that everything would be okay. Maybe even light. Easy. 

Granted, Harry wasn’t exactly sure what that would feel like. Before he came to Hogwarts, when he lived in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley’s, his life was far from light and easy. And once he was told about who he was, his heritage and his destiny, and after he moved to Hogwarts, he had the shadow of the Dark Lord looming over him. 

Even though his time at Hogwarts introduced him to things he’d never known before - friendship, love, family - he was never truly free. From the start he had known, somewhere deep down inside, that there would be only one path for him. He’d known, and accepted, that he would have to face his destiny at some point. That he couldn’t hide. But he did think that once the Dark Lord had been defeated, he would be free.

But nothing had prepared him for what happened afterwards. 

Harry wasn’t a big reader, that had always been Hermione’s bit, but he knew enough about fairy tales to know that after the darkness had been defeated, there would be light and everyone lived happily ever after. The prince would get his princess, the country would settle into a lull of happiness, love would prosper and be stronger than everything else.

But those were kids’ stories. He knew better now.

During the days he could pretend. He would go to work at the Ministry. He would sit through meetings, draft petitions, have endless conversations with co-workers about everything from new legislations, increased grants for St Mungo’s or the latest Quidditch results. 

Over the years he’d perfected the mask of a carefree wizard. He had grown from The Boy Who Lived into The Man Who Triumphed and he bore it well. But the darkness wasn’t gone.

The Deatheaters were. The Dark Lord’s followers had long since either gone into hiding or kept a low profile. The Aurors still had work to do, but nothing that even came close to the time under Voldemort. Harry felt sure about that. His scar didn’t hurt anymore and there was no sign of the darkness and evil that he had felt during the months he, Ron and Hermione had been hunting Horcruxes. No, this darkness was different.

No-one told him about the nightmares. No-one told him how, for the rest of his life, he would have to re-live the moment he thought he would die. No-one, except for Ron and Hermione of course, knew about what had really happened in the forbidden forest that night. But, as usual with these things, a million different truths had spread, each as unlikely as the other. People would tell him how brave he had been that night, how Voldemort was defeated because of him, but Harry knew the truth. He knew the taste of fear at the back of his throat, the way Voldemort’s snakelike eyes had looked into him before his arm rose. He knew the green flash, which he was on the receiving end on for the second time in his life - but this time with nothing standing between him and death and most importantly, old enough to understand what was happening.

No-one told him that, for the rest of his life, he would re-live that scene every time he closed his eyes. No-one told him that, for the rest of his life, every time he drifted off to sleep he would have to take those steps into the clearing to face his biggest fear. But in the dreams he was always alone. He didn’t have the company of his parents, or of Sirius and Lupin, but instead he was alone. The dream always ended with the green flash and he’d wake up with Voldemort’s cold laugh ringing in his ears, the taste of fear in his mouth and the smell of it all over his skin. 

Now he couldn’t remember the last time he slept a whole night. Every time he went to bed, he could feel the darkness close in on him. He could feel that it was everywhere around him. And it wasn’t the same as he had known from Voldemort’s time. This was a different kind of darkness. 

Sometimes Harry felt as if it was inside him. When he and Ginny were still married, it would keep him awake at night. When he lay in bed he could feel it. It coiled inside him, like a snake, settled somewhere over his chest and made it almost impossible to breathe. He’d stay perfectly still until he just couldn’t anymore, until he was sure he’d suffocate, then he’d cast _muffliato_ in Ginny’s direction to make sure she didn’t wake when he slipped from the covers and out of the bedroom.

Breathing was easier then. He’d make a cup of tea, too strong and too sweet, and take it into the living room. He’d sit in the dark, focusing on breathing in and out, doing what he could to keep his mind empty whilst waiting for the morning. When the grey morning light would sneak in through the window he’d get up, make his way back into the bedroom and into bed, and when Ginny woke at the alarm he pretended he did the same.

Ginny had been worried about him, he knew that. He knew her well enough to be able to tell that even though he tried not to worry her he didn’t succeed. Ginny wasn’t stupid, Harry knew that, it was one of the reasons he loved her after all, but he couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t tell her about the nightmares, the panic attacks, the darkness that lived in his mind, because how could he? He didn’t have enough words.

When the children came his nights became a little easier. When other first time parents complained about the lack of sleep and the endless nights, Harry thrived. He didn’t mind staying up all night with James, just sitting next to his crib, ready to pick him up if he would wake. Ginny tried to suggest they’d take turns, so he would get some sleep, but Harry wouldn’t have it. He sat there, in the dark, watching over his son and it made him feel important.

For the first time since Hogwarts he felt needed again. When he pictured life after Voldemort, those times he dared to dream, he never expected that he would feel so…useless. So unimportant. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he had got used to being The Chosen One. After the Battle of Hogwarts no-one needed him anymore. He had always loved Ginny for her independence, her strength and the way growing up with so many older brothers had made her so tough. But as time went on he realised how he craved something he didn’t have anymore. 

He used to think about how Snape had accused him of doing everything he could to be the centre of attention. He had hated it then, disregarding it as something Snape said only to hurt him. But he’d come to realise, with time, that his old potions master knew him better than he wanted to admit. Maybe it had been the bond he had shared with his mother, maybe it was the occlumency skills, but it didn’t really matter. It was the truth, Harry was old enough to admit it to himself now.

But when James came he had a purpose again. That tiny little baby who was completely helpless, completely unable to defend himself against the world. James’ life depended on him and Harry loved it.

The first few years went quickly though. After James came Albus and then Lily and with each baby, Harry kept up his night time watches. But now Lily had joined her brothers at Hogwarts. They had grown from helpless babies into tiny versions of adults and even though Harry knew they couldn’t make it on their own they didn’t depend on him in the same way anymore. 

And Harry hated it.

He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him was glad when the kids left for school. He never thought that being a father would be so difficult. He’d spent all of his life thinking about his own dad, imagining what life had been like if Voldemort had never been a part of it. If his parents had lived, if he had grown up in his own house, with his own family. When he was a child, living in the cupboard under the stairs he would close his eyes and dream about a different life. About a childhood, a real childhood. He would imagine what it would have been like if he had friends, like Dudley did. If he’d had a life where he didn’t only wear Dudley’s worn out clothes, several sizes too big, or play with his discarded toys. 

His own children didn’t understand how lucky they were. How easy their lives were. They didn’t know what it was like to go to bed hungry. To cry yourself to sleep with no-one to comfort you. To have a life where people didn’t care about you, or what was best for you. In his darker moments he would think that he’d never had his own life. From the second Voldemort acted on the prophecy Harry had been branded. He had never had a choice and no-one, not even Dumbledore, really understood what that did to a person. Harry was a pawn, a puppet, and he always had been, only now there was no-one around to pull the strings. Now that he should be free, able to make his own choices, he was merely lost. He craved a mission, to be needed, to DO something but instead he was stuck in the house with his children who didn’t understand and Ginny whose disappointment radiated from her whenever he clashed with the kids. 

He hated himself for it, but he envied them. It frustrated him, hearing them complain about how they didn’t like the food he’d cooked, about how the toys they got for Christmas wasn’t exactly the ones they had wished for or how life was unfair because he wouldn’t let them stay up late to watch television. 

Ginny seemed to have endless patience for these non-problems but Harry didn’t. He would get frustrated, irritated, snap at them to grow up. They all handled it differently. James would shout at him, storm up the stairs and slam the door hard enough for the whole house to shake. Al would sulk, slink out of the room and into his own and not appear for hours. Harry didn’t know what he did in there, didn’t even really care, a small part of him glad that he didn’t have to follow him. Lily, on the other hand, would cry. Her green eyes welling up and she’d run to Ginny for comfort.

Ginny would appear, look at him quietly with a look that made the darkness curl and hiss inside of him. He usually left the house then. Muttering an excuse that neither he nor Ginny really believed.

It wasn’t strange then, that they couldn’t make it work. When the children were old enough to leave for school, it was the first time in years that Harry and Ginny had time for themselves. All that time, however, just made one thing terribly clear: They had nothing in common anymore.

Without the children there as a buffer, they were nothing more than roommates. Ginny was still one of his best friends, but he could tell she was disappointed. He didn’t blame her. She had fallen in love with The Chosen One. The boy whose job it was to conquer the darkness and save the world. But now she was left with him. Even though he could fool most of the others in his life, he could never fool her. And he didn’t try to.

They had decided on the divorce in a friendly, and completely undramatic, manner. He knew Ron had been disappointed when they told him, but Hermione had just looked at him quietly and he knew she understood.

He was abruptly brought back to the present, startled by a sudden noise and acting purely on instinct he grabbed for his wand. He whipped around in his seat, wand held high, but when he saw the majestic Ministry owl outside the window he rolled his eyes at himself. He relaxed slightly, stuffing the wand back into his pocket as he made his way over to the window to open it. The owl gave him an unimpressed look as he held out its leg for him to take the roll of parchment. Harry unfolded the scroll, recognising the handwriting instantly as Hermione’s. 

_Harry,_  
_Are you free for a drink tonight? Ron is working late, the kids are still at the Burrow and I know Ginny has gone there as well. Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages, we’re long overdue a chat. Meet at the Leaky Cauldron at 7?_  
_Love,_  
_Hermione_

Harry felt his chest tighten a little as he read the note, a stab of guilt in the pit of his stomach and he knew Hermione was right. They hadn’t spoken in too long and it was more his fault than anything else. Sure, they saw each other at the Ministry almost every day, had lunch together in the canteen, but their chats never strayed further than work and family. He could sense that Hermione was worried about him but he never gave her the opportunity to get that far. There was always someone to hide behind, a mindless conversation they could intrude on or a meeting he had to rush off to.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of an evening of interrogation but he knew there was no way he could duck out of it. He was fairly sure she would turn up on his doorstep if he dared to say no, and he had a feeling being in public was to be preferred if he was going to sit through an evening of Hermione’s questions.

The Ministry owl hooted lowly, clicking his beak impatiently and Harry sighed. With a determined sort of expression he turned the parchment over, scribbling a quick confirmation on the back of it before fastening it back around the leg of the owl. He watched it soar into the air before he closed the window again, leaning his forehead against the cool glass.

At least the Leaky Cauldron had alcohol, he thought grimly to himself.


End file.
